


Maybe Love Will See Us Through

by thebravedontsurrender



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Self Harm, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2013-08-01
Packaged: 2017-12-22 03:46:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/908522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebravedontsurrender/pseuds/thebravedontsurrender
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is sad and very much overwhelmed, Louis doesn't know how to make him happy again and get the light back into his eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe Love Will See Us Through

Lately, everything has been just too much for Harry to handle. He's trying so hard, he really is, but he's so close to his breaking point. 

He's never been a particularly confident person, and his newfound fame is not helping the matter. He sees what people say about him online and he knows that sometimes it's just their jealousy speaking, but he also knows that sometimes it's not. He knows that a lot of what they're saying is the truth. 

Louis always tries to tell him to ignore those people, he says that they're only jealous, he says that they don't know the real Harry Styles. And he's right, the real Harry Styles is much worse than they know.

The past few months have been tough for him. Any self esteem that he had is completely gone and he's going through day after day with that thought in the back of his head.

The thought that maybe, he could actually get the job done instead of working himself up to it and then backing out. He knows nobody would miss him. He knows the only person that would miss him is Louis. Louis is truly the only thing that has kept Harry's heart beating.

This has happened to him before, when he was about 15. Joining the band is what helped him through that, though none of the other boys knew about it. It was a dark time in his life.

He reached out and turned the water hotter, wondering if the scolding water could seep through his skin and burn the bad feelings out of him. 

This was the only time that he really let himself go. Being in the shower was the only time he could just let himself  _feel_  everything and not bottle it all up. The shower was the only place where he had a decent amount of privacy where he could let himself break down. That may sound pathetic, but it's just how his life is.

Sometimes he tries to hold back the tears, but sometimes he just can't. 

All he does is let his mind go blank for a couple of seconds before the panic will start to set in. 

The tears don't come at first though. No, first he falls to his knees. His mind goes completely blanks besides the thoughts like  _you're not good enough_ , and  _everyone is lying to you, they don't love you_ , and  _even Louis is here because he pities you, he can see the look in your eyes, you need him and he knows it_. Then he starts to hyperventilate. And just when he starts to get lightheaded -- that's when the tears start.

After that, all he is is ugly sobs and loud crying, the salt of his tears mixing with the water of the shower. 

All he does is thank whatever gods may be for the fact that Louis isn't home (he's out with Zayn), because he would definitely come in and see him. Harry doesn't like exposing his weak side in front of people, not even in front of his boyfriend.

He sprawls himself across the shower floor, letting the hot water beat down on him in all directions. 

Just as the crying starts to slow down and he starts to catch his breath, he looks down at his thighs. Too thick, too pale. He looks down at his stomach. He remembers how they called him fat.

He starts crying again, except this time he's crying too hard. He's out of breath. 

"I can't, I can't, I can't-" he chokes into his wet hands. 

He doesn't know why he's saying that he can't, but it makes sense in his head.  _He can't do this anymore._

He grabs at his wet curls, choking on the steam in the air, and he pulls. He hopes it'll relieve some of the pain he's feeling in his chest right at this moment. It doesn't work.

"Hate, hate, hate, hate-" he screeches over and over again, scratching his nails up and down his arms. 

_He hates himself, he hates the world, he hates the people who falsely tell him he deserves the life he has._

He doesn't know what to do, it feels like he's losing control way too easily. 

These episodes happen the same way every time. 

He'll calm down almost completely now, he'll stand back up, he'll continue his shower. 

He feels emotionally exhausted, like he's cried every last tear that he has in his body. 

By the time he's done with his shower, he'll be feeling semi-okay again. As okay as Harry gets. He'll turn off the water, shake out his hair, and opens the shower door only to face the one thing that can drop his mood in an instant.

He looks across the bathroom and into the mirror that he's convinced was placed across from the shower just to taunt him every time he needs to clean himself. 

He looks into the mirror for a few seconds with a slight smile on his face, almost pleased with what he sees. Then he'll bring his eyes lower, down to his stomach; his smile drops. Then lower, and he'll look at his thighs; the tears sting at the back of his eyes. 

He'll turn to the side and all of his flaws seem to be emphasized. He'll grab at the fat on his thighs. He'll dig his nails into the fat on his hips. 

The longer he looks, the heavier his breathing gets, but he can't seem to tear his eyes away from the disgusting thing in front of him that can't possibly be him.

He'll keep himself functioning now, he can't let himself break down. The water isn't running anymore and Louis will be home anytime now. He can't. 

It takes everything he has to keep the sobs inside. Sometimes he'll let one out, but he'll stop and catch his breath, willing himself to calm down.

He completely stays clear of the mirror as he dries off and gets dressed, faced the opposite way. As he brushes his teeth he'll keep his head down and won't let his eyes meet the mirror not even two inches from his face. 

He feels more than relieved by the time he leaves the bathroom; he hates being anywhere where there's a mirror that he can't avoid. He hates looking at himself. He hates the fact that he has such a deep hatred for himself. He hates that he knows Louis is starting to pick up on the changes that Harry first thought were subtle. Louis can tell when somethings wrong, but Harry would never talk to him about this. It would be too much for both of them to handle. 

Their relationship is more often than not very fun, they hardly ever fight and serious conversations aren't really their forte. They just have fun with each other and try not to take life too seriously; Harry doesn't know if Louis would be able to take knowing about his current feelings. But every time Louis looks up at him with those blue eyes full of adoration, it makes Harry hate himself a little more. He hates the fact that Louis thinks he sees so many amazing traits in Harry that he knows aren't there. It makes him sad for Louis. 

But one day Louis will figure it out. He'll figure out that Harry is nothing special, is the equivalent of dirt under his shoes. 

Harry wants to shut himself off to Louis, he wishes he could just end the relationship right now. He wishes he could leave the band, leave the media attention, leave his family, leave everybody he's ever met. He wishes he could just get away to somewhere where nobody will know his name. That's not really possible these days. 

Harry wants to break things off with Louis just to save himself from the pain that will be inevitable once Louis realizes that he deserves much more than Harry, but every time he looks into those blue eyes he can't bring himself to do it. He tries to tell himself that the longer he gets to look into those blue eyes, and run his fingers along that tan skin, and hear that high-pitched laughter, the more the pain will be worth it. 

By the time Harry gets back to the room he's almost completely calm, although he still feels the ache in his chest, in his mind, in his entire being. For him it's like picking the one person that you hate most on the entire planet and being forced into their body with them. 

He shuts the door and remembers to lock it.

He quietly walks over to the dresser and picks up one of his Rolex boxes. Hiding things in plain sight always seems to work best. He slowly takes out the cushioned part and looks down at his collection of razors. He doesn't know why he has so many, they all do the same thing. 

He picks the one that looks the most dull, he feels like he needs the extra burn tonight. 

He makes sure to close the box back up the way he had it before, doing everything perfectly. He picks up the tissue box off of the dresser and brings both items over to the bed with him. After he gets himself situated, he takes a couple deep breaths. 

He picks up the razor in his right hand, hovering over his left thigh, eyes closed. 

Harry opens his eyes and lowers his hand, pressing the blade into his skin and swiping it across his thigh quickly. He doesn't make any noise, just presses the blade down harder a little bit below the first line he made and repeated his actions. As he gets his bearings with the tool, he slowly starts to press it down harder and harder as he gets further down his thigh. 

He relishes in the sting of the blade cutting through the layers of his skin. He loves the feeling of being able to control the way he feels.

After five, six, seven slashes are put into his skin, he stops. 

As he looks down, still calm, he watches the blood. It seeps out of his leg and he watches it, almost mesmerized. It's the only thing that he doesn't hate about himself, he finds it rather beautiful actually. 

He takes his hands on either side of his thigh and squeezes, wanting to see more blood. 

He stares at it for a couple of minutes, just watching the small droplets form and pick a direction to roll in. Just as it's about to roll off onto the bed beneath him, he quickly grabs a tissue and wipes his thigh off, the crimson liquid staining the white material. He held tissues over the wounds until the bleeding stopped completely.

He decides to get dressed before Louis gets home. 

He picks thick gray sweatpants and a black jumper. He misses the days when he was so comfortable with his body that he could walk around the entire house naked while people were there. Now he can't even stand to see himself naked when he's home alone. 

He goes into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. He does, and then he retreats back into the bedroom to watch TV and wait for Louis to get home. He misses Louis. He woke up this morning to a note on the opposite side of the bed saying that Zayn was stealing him for the day. 

Harry turned on the TV to some random movie that was playing and he took a sip of his tea. It was bitter and just not the way he liked it. While he was making it, he was about to put sugar in it, but decided he didn't need to extra calories. 

About an hour later, Harry was still emotionally numb when Louis finally came in. He had left his tea on the side of the bed. He was happy to finally have some distraction from the voices in his head. 

"Hey babe," Louis said and pecked Harry's lips.

Harry forced a smile, "hi." 

"How was your day?" he asked, taking his coat off and throwing it in their closet carelessly. 

"Fine. Didn't do much, how about yours?" Harry asked, not really wanting to talk about what he did that day. He rubbed his hand over his thigh, it ached.

"Great! Me and Zayn basically just hung out alone most of the day, Liam was there for a bit, but other than that it was pretty laid back. Zayn kept yelling at me for us not leaving the flat all week," Louis laughed, plopping down on the bed. 

Harry smiled but didn't saying anything.

Louis sighs and opens his arms as an invitation to Harry. Harry crawls into his arms and settles on his lap, resting his head on Louis' shoulder. 

They sit in silence for a couple of minutes.

"Are you alright?" Because Louis knows he's really not alright.

"Yeah," Harry lies. Louis doesn't believe it.


End file.
